


Good Old Nightmare

by Dalishious



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, One Shot, Solavellan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-05-10 07:15:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5576155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dalishious/pseuds/Dalishious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lavellan is haunted by nightmares of not being remembered as the Dalish elf she is, and consequently wakes her friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Old Nightmare

Skyhold was ever crowded as of recent. Either it was pilgrims pledging their loyalty to the Inquisition and Andraste, (to which Amaris Lavellan _still_ refused to respond with anything other than a snort, despite Lady Vivienne’s stress on the matter of presentation,) or just as often hordes of nobles clamoring for a chance to buy association with the group. It frustrated the inquisitor to no end. This was not a social club. But she spotted a group of them now, huddled around an unfamiliar painting on the wall, downing wine and rapping their lips around useless chatter between sips.

           

Something about the painting captivated Amaris, though. She found herself pulled towards it. It featured a petite woman wearing long, regal red robes with a feathered collar, and sitting on her head was a silver crown with the Inquisition’s insignia.

“A fine portrait, Inquisitor!” Someone announced in a thick Orlesian accent upon noting her approach.

“That is supposed to be _me?_ ” She gawked, and looked up at it again. It looked nothing like her. Where was her vallaslin? Where were her _ears?_ “My ears,” she squeaked out loud, and found herself pressing her palms up to the sides of her head. “What kind of—”

“Do not fret, Inquisitor,” the man interrupted her. She dropped her gaze to a bloody knife in his hand. “We took care of the ears.”

Amaris widened her eyes and pulled her hands away, to see they were thick with blood.

She let out a scream that could curdle the blood of a dragon, and found herself springing out of bed.

 

Amaris knew it was a dream after a minute, but still found herself feeling the tips of her ears, making sure they were there. She threw off the sheets and ran to the mirror across the room. It was dark, but her luminescent elf eyes had no problem checking her appearance. The marks of Dirthamen was still proudly inked on her face. She was still her. She was still Dalish.

 

There was a knock on her door. Amaris was expecting as much; her scream no doubt woke half the castle. She gripped her shoulders tightly and went to open the door.

Josephine, Cassandra, Varric and Solas were all waiting expectantly. It was as she thought; everyone who slept in her radius must have been stirred.

“Apologies. It was just a nightmare.”

“A demon?” Cassandra raised an eyebrow. Even half asleep, she still managed to look like a wolf ready to attack.

“No. Just a regular, good old nightmare.” If Amaris was a little unnerved that Cassandra was still wary of their inquisitor becoming possessed, she didn’t show it.

Varric groaned, and massaged the bridge of his nose. “Maker, elf. We thought you might have been under attack.”

“And so you were planning on rushing to my rescue with what, your slippers?” She asked, noting the cute little nugs on Josephine’s feet.

“They were a gift from Leliana,” she said defensively, and stiffed a yawn. “But now that we know you are well, I will be returning to bed. I have an important early meeting with Duke Étienne, followed by—”

“Spare us the details and catch some beauty sleep, Ruffles,” Varric affectionately reached up to pat her on the shoulder. It seemed with their curiosity satisfied, they were all content to return to their barracks. All except Solas, who remained standing with his elbow resting in his palm, looking at her with an unreadable expression. When it was clear he was not going to leave, Amaris raised an eyebrow.

 

“Except you’re not well, are you?” He finally broke, when the others disappeared down the stairs.

“I am fine.”

“ _Vhenan_ …”

Oh, that bastard. Amaris sighed, and stepped to the side allowing him to enter. He did so with light feet, and the two went to their usual spot on the balcony.

 

The Frostback air was crisp as usual, even more so at night, enough to form tiny, crystalline mist with their breath. But the sky was like a spotless canvas of stars, without a cloud to be seen. Looking up at it immediately put Amaris at ease, and she found herself leaning over the railing. Solas joined her in that pose, and the two stood in silence for a moment, while she collected her thoughts and determined how to begin.

“Ameridan has been haunting me,” she whispered. “He was a mage. An _elven mage_ , just like me. He was a beacon of our people and the Chantry _erased_ it from history!”

“That is nothing new,” Solas shook his head. “Society has always rewrote history in a way they would prefer it to be.”

“I know. I _know_ ,” she winced, and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to will away the prickly feeling. “But I cannot help but fear… Solas, what if they do that to me? What if years from now in history, people will look back at me as something I am not? Do you have any idea what it is _like?_ ”

Solas opened his mouth, then closed it, as if he was prepared to say something, but decided on something else. “ _We_ know.”

“What?”

“Here, now. You have friends, Inquisitor, who would never let that happen.”

“Ameridan had friends too.”

“Who all passed before their time. Do you really think Cassandra would let that happen, as long as she lived? Do you think Varric would immortalize you in writing, any other way?” Solas reached out to rub his thumb down her cheek. “Do you think _I_ would allow it?”

Amaris did her best to smile. In the very least, she let go of her frown. “And what would you do, to stop them?”

“I would march into the Grand Cathedral myself, and demand an audience with the Divine. Considering three of our own are running candidates, I do hope it would be granted.”

“Yes.” Amaris suddenly straightened her spine. If Leliana was to become the next Divine, or Vivienne, or Cassandra, the inquisitor was _fairly_ sure she could count on the ladies to keep her memory true.

 

The elven woman stood on her toes to give him a peck on the cheek. “Ma serannas, la lath. Sahlin emma souveri.” She paused, “But I fear… The nightmares will return.”

“They won’t,” Solas urged, as the two shuffled back over to her bed clattered with Avvar furs. They reminded her of home, somewhat. “Where would you like to dream of? Emerald Graves?” He suggested. Amaris thought for a moment.

“Emprise du Lion…?” She quirked her mouth to the side in response to his smile, and the two settled into the bedding, holding each other close.

“Emprise du Lion it is.” It was the last thing she heard him whisper before drifting off, in a much more peaceful sleep this time.


End file.
